


Where the Stars Stand Still

by fimbrethiel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbrethiel/pseuds/fimbrethiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Third Age draws to a close, a desolate Elrond learns that solace can be found in the most unusual places.</p><p>This story was written for the Secret Santa Swap 2005.   The request was:  “drama, a fire somewhere, romance, a kind, practical Erestor and a world-weary Elrond. A storm, red wine and candlelight wouldn't hurt either.”</p><p>For Keiliss… with much love.  =)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Stars Stand Still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> Italics denote mindspeak
> 
> Original date of completion: December 2005

~*~*~*~*~ 

Barefooted, Erestor glided through the empty halls over chill flagstones, a single flickering candle in his hand.  Outside the Last Homely House a squall raged, tearing the turning leaves from the trees, but within the walls of the haven of Imladris, the public areas were eerily silent.  

In the Hall of Fire, a lone figure sat hunched in the shadows, his back curved against a sculpted column, knees drawn to his chest, the bright firelight glinting off a goblet in his hand, turning its contents into flashes of ruby fire.  Curious to learn who had forsaken the comfort of bed and bower in favor of stone and solitude on tonight of all nights, Erestor crept to the arched doorway and drew slightly inside. 

It was not especially surprising to find Elrond curled up on the bench in front of the massive fireplace.  Of late the Elf-lord had become more and more reclusive, going about his days as though by rote, no longer seeming to derive any joy from his duties.  With increasing frequency, he had withdrawn from the daily running of Imladris and turned the administrative duties over to his sons and their advisors as the preparations for his departure to the Undying Lands drew more frantic.  Elrond’s presence in the Hall at such an hour would not have been remarkable, but for the dull and empty cast that had begun to shadow the Elf-lord’s usually clear and sparkling gray eyes.  The truth was, Erestor thought, that the Lord of Imladris looked _old_. 

“You should be abed, my friend.  The journey tomorrow will be a long one, and you should be resting.” 

Elrond laughed, a melancholy, hollow sound that echoed dissonantly off walls that usually rang with music and sweet Elven voices raised in song.  “I could say the same to you, old friend”  He pulled his legs back and made room for Erestor to sit down beside him.  

“What troubles you, Elrond?” Erestor asked with concern, sliding aside the half-empty wine bottle on the floor at the foot of the bench. 

The Half-elf drained the last few mouthfuls in his glass and rolled it back and forth between his palms for a long while, staring into the flickering flames.  “Do you remember the night we first set this fire a-burning, my friend, and the oath we made, you, Glorfindel, and I?” 

Erestor nodded slowly.  “As though it were yesterday.”

  

_Elrond held the tip of the torch to the center of the wood piled in the firebox.  A tendril of smoke curled from the wood shavings and seconds later, a tiny flame sparked to life.  ”In remembrance of King and kindred we light this fire,” he said solemnly, passing the torch to Glorfindel on his right._

_“It shall remain burning for all our days upon these shores, where its light shall be a beacon for flagging courage,” Glorfindel added, dipping the brand into the wavering blaze before reaching in front of Elrond and passing it to Erestor._

_“And its warmth shall restore hope in a heart grown weary with toil,” Erestor finished, tossing the torch into the rapidly spreading flames_.  

 

Elrond drained the last of the wine from his glass before replying.  “And therein is the problem, my friend.  How many times through the years have I sat here and let the fire’s warmth soothe me and buoy my heart?  I have lost count.  But tonight… I feel nothing.  I should be awaiting the journey tomorrow with hope and anticipation, but I cannot feel a thing.  I feel empty inside.  There is nothing left, nothing of _me_ left.”

He gripped the glass tightly, so tightly that Erestor feared it would shatter under the pressure.  The counselor gently prised his friend’s fingers from the glass, set it carefully out of reach, and drew the dark head down to his chest.  “Ai, Elrond,” he sighed, stroking the silken hair.  “What am I going to do with you?”

Elrond’s shoulders slumped and he leaned his head on Erestor’s shoulder.  “Gods, I am so tired.  All the fighting, the struggle...  and for what?  What has it all been for?  ”

“For them, Elrond,” the counselor replied reassuringly, rocking to and fro as though comforting a child in the throes of a nightmare.  “We did it for your sons, and for Arwen, and her children and the grandchildren that will come after them.  ‘Tis not time for sorrow, my Lord.  Nay, rejoice if your heart will allow it, because the children of her womb will inherit a world of love and peace, where the stains on the land will be healed, and they will live and learn from the evils of the past.”

Elrond’s eyes clouded with pain.  “My daughter. It hurts so much, Erestor.  How can I leave her?”

Erestor’s eyes welled yet again for the woman he loved as though she were his own daughter.  “Her choice pains me too, my friend, but would you have her bound to an eternal life in Aman, pining for the one she loves but cannot have?  Nay, better to celebrate her life and wish her joy while she may have it than consign her to a lonely existence without him.  Estel is a good man; he loves her deeply and will not squander her gift by giving her anything less than utter devotion.  I believe that someday, when the world is broken and made anew, we will meet them once again, and rejoice.”

“Dearest Erestor, ever so wise,” Elrond replied with a sigh.  “I know you are right, but it does not lessen the emptiness in my heart.  My greatest fear is that my sons will follow their sister’s path.”

“Stop this self-defeating behavior, Elrond.  They will come,” Erestor cut in firmly, lifting Elrond’s chin so that their eyes could meet.  “Did they not declare their choice already?  Estel has need of their counsel, and they will not abandon the Dúnedain or their sister.  Think not for one moment that Celeborn would allow them to do otherwise. You know as well as I that he would clout them both unconscious and drag them by the hair, bound and gagged, to the Havens if he thought it necessary.”

Elrond laughed quietly; it was not a mirthful sound but one filled with the cynicism of weary heart and fragile hopes.  “I hope you are right, Erestor.  I could not bear to lose another.  It has oft seemed over the years that everyone who claims to love me leaves me in the end.”  He leaned his forehead against Erestor’s and closed his eyes, hiding his sorrow from his friend’s knowing gaze.

Erestor’s heart wrenched at the utter hopelessness in his Lord’s voice and leaned forward to press his lips to Elrond’s in a chaste and comforting kiss.

“Not everyone who loves you, my Lord,” he quietly murmured to himself as he pulled away.

Elrond reared back in surprise, so quickly that Erestor had no time to school his features.  What the Half-elf saw reflected in his friend’s face was wisdom and deep compassion, but something else as well, emotions that ran far deeper than those of friendship and duty.  What Elrond saw left him speechless.

Erestor had not intended to give voice to the words he had longed for years to say, but it was too late.  Despite the churning of anxiety in his stomach and the trembling of his hands, he forced himself to meet Elrond’s searching gaze without flinching, no longer bothering to veil the emotions he had kept hidden from his friend and mentor for so many years that he had lost count.

The damage was already done, so taking advantage of Elrond’s silence, Erestor leaned in and kissed him again.  It was a gentle, unhurried kiss, just a lingering pressing of lips together, only long enough to mingle their breaths, and reluctantly pulled away.

Elrond sat.  And sat some more, not speaking, only tracing his own lips gently, where he imagined he could still feel the warmth of Erestor’s mouth against his.

Erestor lifted Elrond’s other hand from where it lay limp in his lap, tracing each finger and the vee between with his own, and sighed.  “Have you never wondered why I have taken lovers over the years but never wed?”

Elrond did not pull away, but dropped covered Erestor’s hand with his.  “I did not know.  How long?”

“Since before Celebrían,” the counselor admitted, meeting Elrond’s eyes levelly.  “I wanted to tell you after she sailed, but you were wracked with guilt over not being able to mend her mind as you had her body, and then there was that infernal Ring to deal with, and the timing never seemed right.  But now, I want – ah, never mind.”

Embarrassed, Erestor pulled his hand away and started to stand, but Elrond pulled him back down.  “Stay, Erestor.  What are you saying, wise one?”

The counselor took a deep breath; he had admitted his feelings, and the worst that Elrond could do was say no.  “Your heart and bed have been cold and empty for far too long, my Lord. Let me warm them for you, just for tonight.  I call for no promises, no pledges of commitment, and ask for nothing more than you can give – just the chance to ease your cares until the morning’s light.  Together let us _rejoice_ in this end, not mourn the end of an era; let us leave Middle-earth behind with final memories of joy and love among the sadness.”

Elrond turned his head away and stared into the fire for a very long while, seeming almost to forget that he was not alone, except for the occasional, absent brush of his thumb on the back of Erestor’s hand.  Finally, when Erestor thought he could bear it no longer and was ready to pull away and return to his own room, downtrodden and humiliated, Elrond broke the silence.

“I would like that,” he said, so quietly that Erestor nearly missed it.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, until Erestor gathered bottle and glass in one hand and reached out to Elrond with the other.  He led them away from the fire’s warmth and through the open hallways toward the private suites.  Together they climbed the stairs hand in hand and at the top landing, where darkened passages branched right and left, Erestor halted.  He chuckled, turning to the Half-elf with a wry smile upon his lips.  “The oldest phrase in history and one question I never thought to be asking, but would you prefer your rooms or mine?” 

For the first time in what seemed like months, a smile curved the corner of Elrond’s mouth.  “Yours, if that is all right.  I would rather not have my sons knocking at my door at an inopportune moment.” 

Inside Erestor’s rooms, Elrond stood gracelessly by the door, his back against the wall and feeling like a spring lamb being led to slaughter.  He carefully averted his eyes from where Erestor stood nearby, shedding his outer robe.  “So.  Here we are.” 

“Calm down, Elrond,” Erestor said kindly, walking slowly toward him, the thin silk of his under-tunic fluttering behind him, and braced himself casually against the wall with one hand.  He toyed with a few strands of Elrond’s hair that had spilled forward over his shoulder, dusting the ends over the strong angle of the Half-elf’s chin.  “I meant what I said; I will ask for nothing more than you are willing to give.  There is still time for you to reconsider.”  

Elrond shivered, raising his eyes to meet his counselor’s darkened gaze.  “Nay, it has just been a very long time, and I feel as unsettled as I did on the night of my majority ritual.” 

Erestor nodded with understanding, thinking back to the night of his own induction into adulthood.  He remembered the unease all too well, and also remembered the great care and patience Gildor had shown with him.  “Then we will take this one step at a time.  Some wine, perhaps, to ease your worry?” 

“That might be a good idea,” Elrond agreed with relief. 

He followed his counselor through the chamber toward the bed, one of the few pieces of furniture that had not yet been dismantled and stored.  Tables and other furnishings had been already stowed away, leaving only the bed and a small bedstand alone among boxes and bundles that would be loaded onto carriages and wagons in the morning. 

Under the flickering of many candles, they sat in companionable silence cross-legged on Erestor’s bed, sharing the glass between them until all that remained was a crimson pool in the bottom.  Then without a word, Erestor removed the glass from Elrond’s hand and set it on the floor beside his bed.  Slowly and gently, he urged the Half-elf to lie down across the bed and settled in next to him, propped up on one elbow, and looked down at his Lord and friend.  “One last chance, Elrond; aye or nay?” 

Elrond wrapped a hand in the fall of raven locks that spilled across his chest and gently tugged Erestor’s head down to meet him.  He kissed the wine-flavored lips, murmuring, “Make me feel, Erestor.  Remind me what it is to love again.”

Erestor’s heart swelled and he closed his eyes, settling his body over Elrond’s and deepening the kiss, his hands buried in the thick mass of hair, gently pulling it free of braids and clips.  Funny how he had never really taken note of Elrond’s distinctive scent before – it was a heady fusion of musk, spices, and what he could have sworn was chocolate.  The Peredhel’s fragrance was rich and tempting, and altogether intoxicating.

Elrond’s lips parted and he slipped his tongue into the warm, wet depths and kissed him fervently.  When finally they pulled apart, they were gasping.  Erestor reached for the fastenings on his lover’s tunic and unbuttoned them one at a time, pausing as each clasp fell away to lean in and press a soft kiss to each bit of bronzed flesh that was revealed to his admiring eyes.  Elrond’s breathing quickened and he uttered a nervous bark when a moist, warm tongue dipped into his navel.

“Ticklish, hmm?” Erestor smiled against his belly.

He took his time and explored his lover’s bared torso at his leisure, tracing the ridges between each rib with his tongue, nosing gently at the sparse hair under his arms, the tiny trail that led down from his navel to the gentle swelling under snug breeches below.  With his teeth, Erestor tugged playfully at the few coarse hairs circling Elrond’s budded, dark nipples and the Half-elf gasped in mingled pain and pleasure.

“Sorry,” Erestor murmured, not sounding especially penitent, before moving on to run his lips over the curve of ribs.

Elrond struggled to sit up and shrugged out of the shirt, while Erestor slipped his own over his head and tossed it on the floor.  Cautiously, he reached for the stays on his lover’s breeches, the knuckles of his hand brushing the firm warmth under the snug fabric.  A soft, barely suppressed gasp escaped Elrond’s lips and sent a bolt of fire straight to his groin.  Slowly Erestor unlaced the ties, turning the simple act of undressing his lover into its own bit of lovemaking, allowing his fingers to dance and brush gently over the delight that still lay hidden from sight.

“Are you always such a tease?” Elrond gasped, straining up to seek more and firmer touches.

“When it suits me, aye,” Erestor agreed mildly, his fingers making short work of the remaining lacings.

“Gods.”  Elrond’s head dropped back to the pillow.

“ _Gods_ ,” Erestor echoed reverently when the last lacing was unfastened and he had at last slipped Elrond’s trousers down about his hips, freeing the Lord’s length to jut hard and smooth from its nest of dark, fine, curling hair.  “Such beauty should not be hidden under garments, no matter how finely crafted they are.”

He worked the snug trousers down over Elrond’s long legs, his palms following the path of the rich cloth as it slipped down the leanly muscled limbs.

“I hope you do not find my body distasteful,” Elrond said faintly, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice, his hands rising instinctively to shield himself from his lover’s gaze.

Erestor grasped them and gently forced them back to his sides.  “Valar, no,” he breathed, his hands straying to the lacings of his own trousers.  “You are so very beautiful, Elrond, more beautiful than I ever imagined.”  Rising to his knees, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed the clinging velvet down over the swell of his buttocks, revealing smooth ivory limbs and a considerable erection that curved toward his belly.  “Do you doubt that I find you desirable?” 

Elrond smiled self-consciously, his face flaming.  “Not anymore.” 

Settling back down on his haunches, Erestor lifted his lover’s leg for a slow, sensual massage, kneading the ball of Elrond’s slender foot, working his thumbs deeply into the arch and then into the meat of each calf while Elrond moaned in appreciation.  He gave the other leg the same attention, working his way up the Half-elf’s strong limbs, until he reached the juncture of Elrond’s thighs, and stopped.

Sensing Erestor’s eyes on him, Elrond raised his head to see Erestor studying his face.  “What?” 

Erestor smiled mischievously.  “Just waiting for permission to proceed.”

Groaning, Elrond’s thighs fell to the side, his hips rocking gently into the bed.  “Permission granted.”

Erestor lowered his head and blew warm breaths across the straining flesh, delighting in the way the skin quivered and twitched with each soft puff of air.  He lifted the heavy shaft, allowing his fingers to trace up and down the velvet warmth before ever so slowly taking the rest into his mouth as far as he could, and what he could not cover with his lips, grasped the rest within his hand to make one warm, smooth tunnel. 

Elrond growled and surged into the slick heat, any thought of exercising caution thrown to the wind when Erestor applied gentle suction and glided his hand up and down along with his mouth, using the other to lightly scratch with blunt fingernails at the wrinkled pouch below.  When Erestor began pressing rhythmically on the ridge below his sac, he lost any semblance of control and clutched blindly at the sheets as a mighty orgasm crashed over him.  In the last few cogent seconds before climax, he tapped warningly at Erestor’s shoulder, giving Erestor fair notice to pull away if he was inclined. 

Erestor did not withdraw, and with a low moan, Elrond spilled, his body straining as his length twitched and flooded Erestor’s mouth with scalding, salty fluids.  He fell back to the bed, his body trembling, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to breathe.

While Elrond lay, drained and sweating, Erestor reached over the edge of the bed and found one of their shirts to wipe his hands and lips with, and to also discreetly rid his mouth of its contents.  With fumbling hands, he found the wine glass on the floor and drained the few remaining swallows, swishing them around in his mouth before swallowing.  He had never particularly relished the pungent tang of ejaculate, but when Elrond swelled in his mouth and tapped his shoulder in warning, he chose not to pull away and finish the job with his hand, as he typically had with past lovers.  This may be the only time in his life that Elrond would grace his bed, and he wanted to savor every moment.  Commit it to memory, every sight, sound, and even taste as well.

Placing the empty glass back on the floor, he reached for his nightstand and extracted a small phial of oil, then lay back down next to Elrond and kissed him, long and sweetly, his leg draped between the Half-elf’s thighs. 

When they broke apart, Elrond sighed.  “And all these years, I believed the skill of your tongue lay solely in the council chambers.” 

“There are many talents that it will be my pleasure to share with you,” the counselor said, smiling down at his lover with a lazy grin.  “Are you able to move?”

Elrond chuckled weakly.  “As long as I do not have to go far, I believe so.”

Erestor patted his cheek and smiled.  “Good.  On your side, I think; ‘twill be easiest for you.”

With a groan, Elrond rolled onto his left side and canted his upper leg forward.  He expected to feel awkward and embarrassed about exposing himself to Erestor’s view in this fashion, but surprisingly, he felt completely at ease.  _Right_ somehow, as though being here, in this position, at this moment, was the most natural thing in the world.

With trembling hands, Erestor spilled the oil into his palm and slicked his own length well, using far more of the slippery fluid than probably necessary, but he would not risk injuring his lover.  While Elrond was still pliant and relaxed from release, Erestor circled the puckered ring with slick fingers, feeling the muscle soften and open to him under the slightest pressure.  Assured of plenty of lubrication, he slipped one finger inside and stifled a gasp at the clenching tightness that clamped down on his finger.  He did not move for a few moments, allowing the rippling of Elrond’s passage to stop and loose its hold, and then he slowly pumped lightly, working the slippery fluid deep into his lover’s body.

Gradually, when one finger was moving in and out with relative ease, he cautiously slipped a second in beside the first.  Elrond clenched involuntarily; as soon as Erestor could move again, he angled his hand and sought his target until Elrond cried out and raised his hips off the bed in search of more pressure, more _something_.

“Does that feel good?” Erestor asked, giving the knotty bundle a few firm strokes.

“Oh gods, _yes_.” 

“Then I believe this will feel even better,” he replied, slowly withdrawing his fingers, and laid down, curved around Elrond’s back.  For good measure, he spilled a bit more oil on his arousal and pulled his lover closer to him.  “Are you ready?”

Elrond nodded against the pillow.  “Just go slowly, it has been many years since I last played the sheath.”

“I will,” Erestor promised, guiding the tip of his arousal to the slick opening of Elrond’s body, past the pliant flesh until he reached the strong guardian ring, and slowly pressed forward.  Elrond was incredibly tight, his muscles clenching with such excruciating pressure upon Erestor’s length that he had to stop and struggle to control his breathing, ere he would spill immediately. 

“Dear gods,” Erestor whispered, his breath rustling Elrond’s hair.  “I am trying not to hurt you, but you are so tight…  is it too painful?  Shall I stop?”

Gripping the sheets with whitened knuckles, Elrond admitted through clenched teeth, “It hurts a bit, but it also feels good.  Keep going; I will not break.  But slowly.”

Erestor pressed on with agonizing slowness, his hands roaming over Elrond’s body to distract him from the discomfort of the breaching, drawing the fleshy lobe of an ear into his mouth to suckle it gently while his hands roamed the expanse of his chest, flicking and teasing the pert nipples into hard, tight little buds.  Finally, he was flush with Elrond’s back, his stomach pressed to Elrond’s sweating flesh.  He desperately wanted to move, but held himself still, kissing the damp tendrils of hair that clung to Elrond’s neck while he gently stroked his lover’s flaccid shaft back to full hardness, until Elrond was whimpering and writhing under his touch.

“Are you ready?  I cannot hold back much longer,” Erestor whispered.

“Aye,” Elrond replied, drawing his lover’s mouth down to his.

Erestor rocked gently, never too speedily or too deeply, taking care to strike Elrond’s center on each thrust.  He was aching for release, but he would draw out Elrond’s pleasure as long as he could, no matter the cost to himself.  His hands roamed over his lover’s body, smoothing and soothing the quivering flesh, feeling the flex and play of long, sleek muscles under the skin as he made love to the Half-elf. 

Elrond had lost little of the muscle-tone of the warrior he once had been.  The tokens of his Human heritage were evident in the breadth of his shoulders and chest, the fine dusting of hair upon his body, the slight rounding at the tips of otherwise perfectly furled ears.  His features were more distinct than those of a full Elf, less ethereal and more solid – sculpted cheekbones, a strong and determined chin, generous lips, and broad forehead – but no less striking.  It was Elrond’s diverse bloodline that made him exotic and extraordinarily beautiful, even among Elven-kind, but even more appealing than his comely visage was his heart.  The Peredhel lord was, simply, the most kind and wise being Erestor had ever had the privilege of knowing.

In the pit of his belly, he felt the slow, burning curl of orgasm rising and knew he was nearing the end of his restraint.  He could hear Elrond’s breathing becoming more labored.  He nuzzled the pulse fluttering under the skin of the slim neck and nipped it gently, only enough to leave a tiny red mark that quickly faded and disappeared.

“I am so close, Elrond… can you feel what you saw written in my eyes?  Come with me, lover, let me take you over the edge, let us go there together.”

“Yes,” Elrond whispered, craning his neck to meet Erestor’s lips.  “Take me with you, I want to feel it with you.”

No more quickly did Erestor grasp and thrust, only longer and deeper, keeping the same measured pace as he withdrew and slowly thrust into his lover’s body, stroking the firm flesh in his hand long and smoothly while he plundered Elrond’s mouth with wine-flavored kisses.

Together they rode out the waves of release, not in swift ascent and to thunderous end, but on a lingering swell of sensation that brought them higher and higher, balanced on the crest for one perfect moment where it seemed the stars stood still and the earth and moon halted their journeys, and then began the slow, sweet glide into ecstasy.

~*~*~*~*~

An unremitting knocking on his door woke Erestor in the morning just as the sky was pinking with dawn.  Overnight the storm had stopped, and the air was redolent with the aroma of pine and the crisp, clean freshness that comes only after a heavy rain.  The day of departure had arrived.

Quickly and quietly, he disentangled himself from sheets and limbs and hurried to the door, wrapping a dressing gown around him as he went.  Opening the door just enough to peer out into the hallway, he peeked through the crack, shielding the bed’s other occupant from view, and swallowed a low moan of dread as silver-grey eyes wide with anxiety peered back at him. 

“’Rohir!  What is the trouble?  Why do you wake me with that noisome pounding on my door?  ‘Tis barely past dawn,” he asked, masking the nervous tremor in his voice with a contrived yawn. 

He braced the door with his foot against the insistent pressure Elrohir exerted, trying in his agitation to work his way into Erestor’s bedroom.

“Ada is missing, Erestor,” Elrohir exclaimed worriedly.  “El went to wake him and bring him breakfast, but he was not there, nor has his bed been slept in.  We have looked in his office, the stables, the gardens; Glorfindel has even been down to the River.  No one has seen him since yestereve –

“He has been out of sorts lately and will not speak of his troubles with us.  We are worried about him,” Elladan added from over his brother’s shoulder.  “Do you have any idea where he could be?"

“I am certain your father is fine, ‘Adan.  He has probably spent the night wandering around and saying goodbye, and ‘tis more than likely you simply passed each other by,” Erestor replied soothingly to the elder of the twins, while his ever cunning mind thought furiously.  He had to send the brethren on their way quickly, giving Elrond time to sneak back to his chambers and dress, and then create a plausible excuse for the Half-elf’s whereabouts before anyone found out that the Lord of Imladris had spent his last night in Middle-earth in the bed of his chief counselor.  He nudged the door slightly, forcing Elrohir to remove his foot, and began to push it closed.  “Just give me a few moments to dress and I will meet you shortly in your father’s office.”

From within the room, there was a faint rustling and the sound of someone – obviously a male – clearing his throat.  Erestor’s face showed a flash of panic when the twins’ eyes narrowed in surprise, but also with suspicion at this unusual development, for to their knowledge it was rare for the counselor to share his bed with another.  “Erestor?  Who is in there?”

Erestor felt a hand on the small of his back and the door slowly but inexorably pulled from his grasp.  He turned to Elrond in surprise when he felt an arm slip comfortably around his waist and saw, for the first time in weeks, that the Half-elf’s face was serene, his eyes untroubled and clear, and blessedly free of the weariness that had beset him only the night prior.  With a resigned sigh, the counselor stepped back, relinquishing his hold, and crossed his arms over his chest while Elrond opened the door and faced his sons.

Both mouths dropped open and they stood in the hallway, gaping at their father.  Elladan simply stood with his mouth open, staring from Elrond to Erestor and back again, while Elrohir’s jaw worked a few times before he could manage to get anything intelligible to come out of his mouth.  “Ada?  What – why – you – _Erestor_?”

“Aye, ‘Erestor’.  Do close your mouths, dear ones; there are no flies about for you to catch,” Elrond said with the first traces of humor any had heard from the venerable Lord in longer than any dared recall.  “I have been found, alive and well.  Now please go to my rooms and await us there.” 

“Ada,” Elladan began, but he was silenced when Elrond laid a reassuring hand on his eldest son’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into the hall.

“Go, ‘Adan, ‘Rohir.  We will be along in a few moments.”

Elrond watched his sons retreating down the hall, their heads bowed together in hushed speculation.  In a few moments, he would return to his own chambers for the final time and say his farewells to his children, but first he had some unfinished business.  He closed the door and turned around to face Erestor, who had stood beside him in silence, watching the exchange between father and sons.

Erestor looked at him, consternation furrowing his brow.  “Would you leave, having them believe an untruth, that there is more between us?  Last night was for _you_ , Elrond, I only sought to soothe a troubled spirit in the coming of dawn.  I harbor no illusion that anything further will come of it.”

Elrond closed the distance between them, raising his hand to smooth the lines of worry from the other Elf’s face.  “Would you be averse to exploring the possibility?” 

Erestor thought for long moments, and finally a slow, radiant smile curled across his lips and his eyes twinkled with elation.  “That proposal is most agreeable, my Lord.”

Elrond held out his hand and smiled.  “Then what are we waiting for?  We have long a journey to make, my friend.”

~*~*~*~*~

And so it was said that, upon the passing of the Elves into the West, Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand.  Then Elrond rode on; for the Third Age was over, and the Days of the Rings were passed, and an end was come of the story and song of those times.  With them were many Elves of the High Kindred who would no long stay in Middle-earth.  And at his side was Erestor, and he raised his voice in song, for his heart was filled with joy.*

~*~*~ _finis_ ~*~*~

*paraphrased from ‘The Grey Havens’, Return of the King, pp. 337-338


End file.
